I like the same barstool,
       the usual drink,
       the comfort of knowing…

       who’s coming through the door.

Familiar is safe.

Familiar is easy.

But when the moment calls for it,
    when the scene shifts,
    when the world alternates,

    I know how to move.

A learned thing—
      how to blend,
      how to listen,
      how to speak in rhythms

      I wasn’t raised with.

Never changing who I am,
    just knowing
         when to lean in,
         when to step back,
         when to make strangers

         feel like old friends.

And then I met you.

And you move the same way.
    Across tables,
    across cities,
    across every invisible line

    the world draws between people.

Now, even my own reflection
     feels new.

Not just in mirrors,
    but in the gleam
    of polished porcelain,

In the smooth, quiet hum
       of work well done.

Halfway to something better.

Halfway to you.

Though at this rate,

I might need a new trick—
    something to blend in
    with the empty space beside me.

Something to make missing you
          hurt…
                a little less.